


A Visit Wrapped Tight

by Anonymous



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (sort of), Bondage, Extremely Dubious Consent, Foot Fetish, Forced Orgasm, GOD I DONT WANT TO WRITE THAT BUT THERE ARE SOME FEET USED IM SORRY, Gags, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Stockholm Syndrome, Vibrators, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2020-12-24 00:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21090347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Louis reaches up, Harry already knows what’s in his hand. A plain little leather collar imbued with so much magic that the second he loops it around Harry’s neck, he feels himself going pliant, almost going blank. Like his mind is giving up control of his body.“That’s better,” Louis says, buckling it at the front of his neck. He waves his hand and the curtains open again, the lock clicks back to unlocked. “Come on now,” he says, taking hold of Harry’s hand. “Let’s see what we can find you to do during this pleasant little visit you’ve paid me.”Louis is a witch, and Harry is the human he claims.





	A Visit Wrapped Tight

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of those "not for everyone" works. If you think of any tags I need to add, let me know.
> 
> This work is part of a series. See the notes at the end for the rest of the series. This is not the first one, and they do not need to be read in strict order, but you may be a bit confused. I trust you would catch on, though. If you really wanted. 
> 
> This is dedicated to all of you who have waited so many months. You're very patient. I hope this doesn't disappoint.

Harry stands on the pavement and stares across the road to the shopfronts opposite. 

He’s been on this stretch of pavement countless times. It’s not far from the corner where he waits for the bus to work.

He’s standing in front of the Pizza Express that he’s ordered from countless times, and the Starbucks at the corner knows his order by heart. But the building right in front of him feels out of place. His eyebrows knit together into a deep frown as he tries to place it. There’s a fuzzy familiarity, like it’s part of a memory he just can’t quite bring to the surface. 

It’s a teal storefront with massive bay windows that display an interior filled with plants and colourful glass instruments. The whole place rather looks like something out of a fantasy book series. The sign across the top reads  _ Rogue Apothecary _ in white script.

Really, Harry shouldn’t be so intrigued by this. It looks like a storefront straight out of Halloweentown. It’s probably just another kitschy shop that’ll be here now and gone by next week, because there’s only so many little plants and purple gemstones that people will want to buy. 

But he’s had a hard day at work, with a customer spilling her mocha down a whole row of white dresses, and another customer demanding he let her return a pair of shoes without a receipt, clearly well worn, that Harry’s pretty sure didn’t even come from his store in the first place. 

Then there were the two rats in the back room that his manager instructed him to find a way to kill by the end of the day. As if he had it in him. 

It’s been a long day… 

It’s been a long weak. 

Maybe it’s even been a long year.

So Harry crosses the street. The mystery store seems like it’s pulling at him, asking him to come inside. Maybe he’ll get one of those little air plants, if they have them. Something small and cheap and green. Maybe he’ll just look around and think about how odd it is that he’s never noticed this place before.

Retail therapy. What could go wrong?

— 

When Harry pushes open the door, a set of small baby blue bells chime above him, a tinkling light sort of sound that makes the person at the till glance up and-

Oh shit.

Oh shit, that’s Louis. 

Harry’s eyes grow wide. Louis’ eyes grow wide. Louis smiles so brightly you’d think he’d just been told he was getting a puppy.

“Harry!” He yells, getting up and going around the counter. “You’re here!”

Harry feels frozen in place, even though for once in his life he’s not. He stands and stares and tries to get words to form good, important sentences. Or head for the door. Either one of those would be good options and neither one is happening. 

“Louis,” he stutters. “This is… you?”

Louis giggles, reaching him and brushing his hand against Harry’s arm. It feels like sparks to Harry, who jerks back just a little bit, still in shock at just  _ running into him _ . 

Louis notices his movement, glances down to where they’re almost touching. When he looks up, he’s still smiling but it’s a little less joyful, a little less full of wonder. A little more something darker.

“I knew you’d find me eventually,” he says, and with that he puts a hand square on Harry’s chest and pushes him backward, until his back hits the that’s closed behind him.

With a wave of his other hand, the curtains close, the window in the door shutters, and Harry hears the sound of a lock turning. The shop is momentarily thrown into darkness before the lights above flicker on. 

“I- I didn’t,” Harry says. “This wasn’t— not on purpose.”

Louis clicks his teeth. “Of course not,” he says. “But a witch’s soulmate always finds them eventually. Don’t worry, it’s a good sign. And I’m more than happy to spend the day entertaining, if you know what I mean.”

Harry gulps. “Louis—” he says. “We have to- to actually talk about this. Please, don’t just—”

Louis puts a hand over his mouth. “Not yet,” he says. “You’re not ready. In fact,” he glances over to the shelf next to them, lined with all sorts of things that Harry would personally consider boot sale junk. “You’ve caught me off guard but here, this will do nicely for the moment.”

He takes his hand off of Harry’s mouth long enough to reach over onto the shelf and grab a pot of powder, the sort of thing that looks like it could be part of an organic makeup routine. Louis screws the lid off and holds it up before very quickly blowing across the surface, sending the powder flying  _ all over Harry. _

Harry coughs, feeling like it’s gone up his nose. He looks up and suddenly Louis is already across the room, bending down under the checkout counter. He’s moving terrifyingly fast, and Harry realises too late that it’s probably not Louis moving so fast, but Harry moving  _ slow. _ The powder he breathed in no doubt has something to do with it.

Boutiques maybe aren’t the best place when the person who stocks them is a real witch.

Louis seems to move at double speed, rummaging around under the counter and then making his way back to Harry in what must be a leisurely fashion, while Harry is still hoping that if he huffs enough he can get most of the powder out of his nose.

“I keep this with me because I never know when I may need it,” Louis says, his voice sounding confusingly slowed down. “But I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to show up here so soon, really!

When Louis reaches up, Harry already knows what’s in his hand. A plain little leather collar imbued with so much magic that the second he loops it around Harry’s neck, he feels himself going pliant, almost going blank. Like his mind is giving up control of his body. 

“That’s better,” Louis says, buckling it at the front of his neck. He waves his hand and the curtains open again, the lock clicks back to unlocked. “Come on now,” he says, taking hold of Harry’s hand. “Let’s see what we can find you to do during this pleasant little visit you’ve paid me.”

Harry can’t help himself, can’t even make a face as Louis leads him to the other side of the counter. The collar renders him completely void to his own will, able to do nothing except bend to Louis’ will. He stands and waits and the feeling of being under total control surrounds him, makes him feel… more at peace than he thinks it should.

He doesn’t have a lot of time to introspect on it, though. 

“Strip,” says Louis, as he bends down again, this time while both of them are behind the counter, to delve into his messenger bag.

Harry does so, peeling off his silk shirt and then going straight for his trousers, struggling a bit with them but managing to get them off before too difficult a fight. 

When Louis stands again, Harry is down to only his black boxer-briefs, as apparently Louis’ command was vague enough that he is able to keep those on. Louis dumps a miscellany of small items on the counter and then turns back to him with a smirk. 

“As far as soulmates go,” he says. “I do have one of the fittest. Just wait until you meet Niall’s.”

He puts a hand up and caresses Harry’s cheek, his touch so gentle that his fingers ghost over Harry’s skin, leaving goosebumps. 

“Right!” He says then, as if catching himself in a distraction of some kind. He turns and grabs something off the counter. “Open up,” he says. Harry does so, and Louis places a little red ball in his mouth and then snaps his fingers. The ball on Harry’s tongue swells, in seconds filling his mouth and stretching his jaw wide. “Knew it was a good idea to put a mirror portal in my bag,” he says. “It’s a little ridiculous if people ever go rummaging through my things to find a large hand mirror in there, but I’d hate to be caught somewhere without my things, you know?”

Drool gathers at the corners of Harry’s mouth. 

“You get to be my assistant today,” Louis tells Harry. He grabs something off the counter, then turns around and reaches his arms around him as Harry stands still, arms limp at his sides. Louis places a kiss to his chest, just above his right nipple, that makes Harry’s heart do fluttery things that it has no right to do in response to the man holding him captive. “My shop doesn’t close until six on most days, but just for you I think I could keep it open an hour later.” Then Harry feels Louis’ hands at the waistband of his boxers, as one hand slips down and presses something cold and smooth against his hole, pressing it in slowly and steadily as Harry feels himself uncomfortably stretched, until it reaches what must be the rim and stops, nestled between his cheeks. It aches, not entirely pleasant or unpleasant, and Louis gives it two swift taps that Harry would be groaning under could he move at all. 

Louis grabs two more things off the counter - two silky pink ribbons, looking only maybe a foot long each. 

He steps aside and instructs Harry to sit on the tile floor, which Harry has no choice but to do. Then he maneuvers him until he’s under the counter, directly under the till in the middle, facing the chair Louis was sitting in when he arrived. 

Louis bends down in front of him, two pieces of lace in hand. He takes the first one and ties Harry’s right wrist to his right ankle. Not particularly tight, and with a nice bow on the end. Then, with the other one he does the same with Harry’s left wrist and his left ankle. The way Harry’s sitting, legs spread to accommodate the bindings, it’s easy for Louis to lean in between his legs and undo the collar around his neck. 

As soon as he does, Harry jerks just a little, out of instinct from regaining his mobility. He makes a quiet whimper, the gag large enough that not much gets through. Louis smiles at him, nose scrunched, before leaning back out from under the counter and standing up, leaving only his torso down visible to Harry. 

Harry pulls his right arm. He jerks it toward his torso, hoping to slip it out of the ribbon but managing only to kick himself in the thigh, the leg coming with the arm. As much as the ribbons look like decoration, they’re like a steel lock around his appendages.

Then Harry looks closer and realises to his horror that the ribbon is growing. Where there was one loop around his wrist and ankle there’s now three, traveling up his wrist and ankle at a worrying rate. 

Just as he’s beginning to watch the ribbons grow and loop around himself, Harry hears the door chime. 

“Welcome to  _ Rogue Apothecary,”  _ Louis says, his voice welcoming and polite. “Anything I can help you find today?”

“Just looking,” Harry hears the customer say. He moans into his gag, knowing full well they would never be able to hear him. Also knowing he probably wouldn’t want to get caught looking like this under a store counter. 

The ribbons loop themselves slowly but surely up his arms and legs while one, then two customers browse. The plug in his ass is uncomfortable, especially when he shifts, but not as noticeable as it could have been.

Until Louis crowds a little closer to him, his legs and feet now up between Harry’s as he rings up something for a customer. Harry hears the small talk, although he doesn’t really catch much after the  _ ding _ of the register, followed by the plug in his ass beginning to vibrate. 

It’s a slight vibration, just enough to be annoying, but it does make Harry shift, makes him more aware of the bonds on his arms and legs. Both of them have now covered all the way up to his elbows and knees, and then begun to loop back down again, just a little bit tighter than before. Harry shifts again, the plug shifts again, and drool from the gag hits the tile floor beneath him. He doesn’t even notice Louis speaking to another customer until the  _ ding  _ of the register and the vibrations in his ass pick up. 

Harry whimpers, breathing a little harder. His dick has taken an interest now, thickening up in his pants. Not that he can do anything about it now, with the way his arms and legs are tied together. 

He breathes heavily through his nose, watching the ribbons make their way back down his arms and legs. Clenching and unclenching his cheeks around the plug do nothing but make the problem worse but he can’t stop himself, searching for just a little more  _ something  _ since he can’t even reach his dick, still trapped in his pants. 

When the ribbons reach his hands they keep going, looping around his fists until they’re nothing but two mittened, useless things. He whines. 

The register  _ dings. _

The vibrator moves up a level. 

Harry could cry. 

Just then Louis scoots his stool forward, taking a seat for the first time and crowding into Harry’s space, between his legs and arms. Harry leans forward, resting his forehead against one of Louis’ knees. He needs  _ something. _ Anything. Even if it’s just a point of contact. 

Then, he groans, as much as is possible through the gag and the drool, because Louis’ put one foot down and is rubbing slow circles against his dick. Harry could cry. He humps up against the gentle pressure, and whimpers at the way the vibrator shifts inside him when he does. It feels heavenly. His thighs clench and he breathes hard as Louis pushes him over the edge, seeing stars as he comes in his pants. 

Then, after a few moments of calming down, the vibrations are more apparent than every, unfaltering, unwavering. Louis presses a little more insistently, and Harry tries to back away, to get away from the pressure on his abused dick, but finds that although he’s not quite at the back wall of the counter, the ribbons on his arms and legs have looped around the stool now. Tying him to Louis. Tying him to this consistent torture.

It’s painful now, but at the same time he feels just the stirrings of a response, egged on by the vibrator and the massage. 

Then the register  _ dings _ again.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15623517)  
Part 2 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629091)  
Part 3 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17401295)  
Part 4 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472225)
> 
> This is part 5.


End file.
